


You Don't Have To Say You Love Me

by DamsonDaForge



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Agony, Angst, Bitter, Broken Bones, Discussions of death, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Life-threatening Illness, M/M, Medical Trauma, Mortality, Pain, Physical suffering, Protracted Pain, Serious Illness, Serious Injuries, Stranded, Tenderness, Unflinching descriptions, daforge - Freeform, serious angst, unspoken feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamsonDaForge/pseuds/DamsonDaForge
Summary: “There is an M-class planetoid within range,” Data said.  “I will endeavour to land the shuttle on the night side.  Its nickel-iron core is unusually large and it has a dense, sub-tropical atmosphere.  It should offer significant protection.”A supernova blast that leaves the Enterprise badly damaged strands Data and Geordi on an uninhabited world.  With time running out for their rescue, will the closeness of their relationship prove to be their salvation?
Relationships: Data & Geordi La Forge, Data/Geordi La Forge
Comments: 195
Kudos: 247
Collections: Star Trek Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are graphic descriptions of untreated injuries, broken bones and medical procedures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be extended, detailed descriptions of protracted pain in future chapters. The journey that begins here will be long and difficult and my fic can be quite unflinching in many emotional aspects, which may not be for you.

“La Forge to _Enterprise_! Go to warp four _now_! I just saw a massive surge of neutrinos.”

“Conn!” Picard ordered. “One-seven-five mark nine-zero. Warp four, engage.”

“Astrometrics confirm,” said Worf, his voice booming over the comm system. “Metaphasic shielding online.”

Geordi looked across at Data, who was piloting their shuttle. Golden eyes met Geordi’s gaze and although the android would deny it if asked, there was concern on Data’s face.

They could hear Will in the background. “All hands, all hands, brace for impact.”

Data and La Forge had been on their way back to the _Enterprise,_ having retrieved a damaged probe from a neutron star/red giant binary system. The orbit of the neutron star had been decaying since its formation, slowly spiralling into its companion. The neutron star’s merger with the core of the red giant was now imminent. The combined mass of the pair was going to put them over the Tolman-Oppenheimer-Volkoff limit, thereby causing their catastrophic collapse into a black hole. 

The flash of neutrinos Geordi had just seen, followed by intense gamma and x-ray bursts, meant the stars were about to go supernova three weeks ahead of schedule.

Geordi heard that pre-nova blast hit the _Enterprise_ , a jolt of static over subspace, as it ploughed into her shields.

The Captain’s voice came in over the radio noise. “Your status, Mr La Forge?”

“I’m cutting the tow on the probe,” said Geordi, terminating the tractor beam. “But we can’t outrun this.”

Geordi glanced at Data, prompting him to take over the report.

“There is an M-class planetoid within range,” Data said. “I will endeavour to land the shuttle on the night side. Its nickel-iron core is unusually large and it has a dense, sub-tropical atmosphere. It should offer significant protection.”

“Is there time?” asked Picard, his voice distorting as the signal was further disrupted by the impending supernova.

“I believe we can make orbit before the shock wave hits,” Data replied.

“Orbit?” said Picard, concern audible in his tone.

“The timing is... not ideal.”

“I’m going to try to boost our shields and structural integrity, but…” Geordi trailed off, not needing to elaborate further.

“I understand, gentlemen.”

“Good luck,” said Geordi, wrenching off an access panel.

“To you too, Picard out.”

“Metaphasic shielding may not be sufficient to protect the _Enterprise_.”

“I know, Data. But it’s the only chance they’ve got. And it’s a damn sight better than ours.”

“Agreed.”

“What do our timings look like?” Geordi was on his knees, decoupling connections from the warp drive power transfer relays.

“My calculations show the blast wave will hit four point three seconds after we enter the magnetosphere.”

“That’s not enough time for us to get down.”

“No, it is not.”

Even though the bulk of the minor planet would protect them from a direct hit, the radiation and the energy from the blast were going to send shock waves of massive amplitude through the atmosphere.

“This is going to be rough,” said Geordi.

“Indeed.”

“How long before it hits us?”

“Twenty six point three seconds. You should take your seat and ‘buckle in’.”

Given the intensity of the catastrophic event they were about to endure, Data had deployed the seat harnesses.

“Don’t worry about me,” said Geordi, pulling out a section of EPS trunking. “Pilot the shuttle.”

“I am able to do both,” Data said, tapping away at the helm, oblivious to the implications of what he’d just said.

Geordi smiled, despite their dire circumstances, as he removed the set of control chips from the power transfer system. With the chips removed, there would be no limit on the level of warp power he could channel through the EPS conduits.

“How long for the _Enterprise_?” Geordi asked, knowing it was imminent.

“Time to impact, in three, two, one. Now.”

There was no flash or explosion; they were too far from the _Enterprise_ and on a heading away from her for there to be anything visual. All they had were the shuttle’s scans, cold numbers that spoke to the fate of their friends and colleagues.

“There has been no warp core breach,” said Data, analysing the readout. “No matter/anti-matter explosion, the _Enterprise_ is intact.”

“Thank God for that,” said Geordi, from half-inside the access panel.

“Their shields are holding, however, I am reading widespread disruption to the power systems, impulse and warp engines are offline.”

Knowing the _Enterprise_ was out of immediate danger meant Geordi could focus wholly on what he needed to do. He was reaching inside the field coils, feeling for the manual access switch that would lead to the shield generation matrix. He found the latch and flicked it open with his fingernail. He slid out the racking, row after row of connection ports glowing fiercely in the high UV. A blue-ish cast fell over his skin as he turned the racking, giving him access to the auxiliary power supply and its EPS junction.

To do this safely, he would have needed more than an hour to decouple all the connections. There wasn’t time. Geordi shoved the warp power relay into the open EPS junction. The discharge lit up his VISOR and knocked him clear across the shuttlecraft. He slammed into the wall and fell winded to the deck, the burns to the palms of his hands yet to make themselves felt.

“Geordi, are you injured?” Data asked.

“Computer,” Geordi gasped by way of reply, “route all available warp power directly to the shield grid.”

“Warning,” the computer replied. “Routing of—”

“Override, La Forge delta three two.”

“Shields are at 163%,” Data reported. “Entering standard orbit. I am shutting down impulse engines. Thrusters engaged.”

“Computer, channel all available impulse power to structural integrity.”

“Confirmed,” said Data. “Structural integrity is at 144%.”

Geordi staggered to his feet, the pain beginning to register. He hooked his arms through the shoulder straps on his seat, but he was struggling to fasten the buckle, his hands had been severely damaged by the plasma shock.

“Time to impact,” said Data, “in three, two, one. Now.”

*~*~*~*~*

When Geordi came to, he was in darkness. Wrenched out of his seat by the impact of the shockwave, he had been thrown violently into the bulkhead behind the conn. Knocked unconscious after smacking his head on the wall, his VISOR must have gone flying. 

When he tried to sit up, he gasped in pain. Primarily down the left side of his body, Geordi’s head swam with it. Combined with an intense dizziness, he decided that he should probably lie back down. Trying to take something positive from his situation, at least that eruption of pain meant he wasn’t dead.

He could feel the the carpet of the shuttle under his fingertips. That he was lying on the floor and not on the ceiling or against the back wall meant they hadn’t crashed; they had managed to land the shuttle on the planetoid.

“Data?” he said into the darkness. “Data, are you there?”

There was no reply. Best case scenario? The radiation levels had been so high, Data’s systems had gone into protective shutdown. He wouldn’t reboot until they dropped to a safe level. Worst case? Geordi didn’t want to think about that.

“Computer?”

His inquiry was met with silence.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” he mumbled. “Computer?”

There was complete silence, not even an abortive chirp or a burst of static.

Lying on the deck, waiting for Data to – please, _please_ – wake up, Geordi took stock of his injuries. The worst pain was in his left knee, which felt like it had exploded, and in the palms of his hands, where the plasma burns had left raw layers of skin open to the air. His right ankle was broken, as was his left arm and there was pain all down the left side of his chest. To crown it all off, almost literally, was the thumping pain in his head. He could feel dry blood on the side of his face. What he wasn’t able to see was the halo of blood that had soaked into the carpet around his head. 

He was in so much pain, Geordi thought he might go mad from it. If he didn’t move, the broken bones weren’t the worst of it. His knee felt so horrifically _wrong_ he was just desperate to try to alleviate it, but any attempt to move made the pain rocket, almost enough for him to pass out. His hands were screaming constantly, white-hot, searing pain; it was like they were still on fire.

Though his injuries were incapacitating and agonising, Geordi didn’t think they were life-threatening in and of themselves. No, the Universe had set him a multiple-choice quiz in that respect. He triaged his situation and came up with the following, in order of seriousness.

Firstly, they were in a shuttlecraft, hermetically-sealed against the vacuum of space. As far as Geordi could tell, all its systems were down; there was not a sound, there was no thrum in the deck, no sense that anything was running. It was likely the craft had been affected as Data had been and all systems were either damaged or in shutdown. Which included the environmental controls and that meant the CO2 scrubbers were offline. They made a characteristic _chur-chur-chur_ sound that was entirely absent. Geordi ran a few numbers in his head, giving himself a rough baseline of how much oxygen might be left. Because they were hauling that probe, they had taken one of the larger shuttles, which was something. One variable he couldn’t account for accurately was how long he’d been unconscious. The blood on his face was dry, but when he tentatively touched the wound on the side of his head, his fingers came away tacky. So he couldn’t have been out _that_ long. His estimates were that he had between eight and twelve hours before… well, before he started to suffocate.

Secondly, it was getting hot as well as stuffy. Geordi could feel sweat beading his forehead and it had started to dampen his uniform. A sealed metal box with no environmental controls was also going to be subject to the whims of the local climate. Data had said the planetoid was sub-tropical and Geordi was starting to feel every degree Celsius of that description. Three days without water was the average length of time that a human could go without drinking. Given the amount he was sweating, Geordi knew that was going to be cut by at least a third and probably by half. So he needed water within the next thirty-six hours.

Thirdly, he’d had a massive dose of radiation himself. Before they’d left for their mission he had been given a protective hypospray by Dr Crusher - standard procedure when personnel were venturing into highly radioactive arenas, like around a neutron star. However, there was no way that single hypospray was designed to mitigate getting caught in a supernova blast. There were high dose anti-rad treatments in the emergency medical kit. Geordi knew that he had a couple of days before the effects of the radiation would begin to seriously debilitate him.

With his priorities laid out in stark order and with no way to know when (or if) Data would reboot, Geordi had no choice. He would have to proceed as if he was on his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are graphic descriptions of untreated injuries, broken bones and medical procedures.
> 
> The journey that begins here will be long and difficult and my fic can be quite unflinching in many emotional aspects, which may not be for you.

Priority one, get the door open so he’d be able to breathe beyond the next few hours. The air out there would be inundated with radiation, but first things first - Geordi’s problem within the problem was that he didn’t know which way the door was. VISOR-less and having been thrown around the shuttle at random, Geordi had no way to know where he had landed. 

He reached out with his relatively undamaged right arm, feeling for something that would give him a clue as to his orientation. Trying to ignore the pain flaring in his palm, his fingers brushed against a bulkhead that felt smooth and nondescript. Most of the panelling hid access to the shuttle’s systems or were hatches for storage. There were just two of these smooth bulkheads, one behind each seat, so he wasn’t far from the conn. 

Now he needed to work out if he was behind Data’s seat on the left, with his head pointing forward, or behind his own, with his head pointing aft. He ran his hand along the flat surface and then he felt it begin to curve away from his fingers. The bulkheads were squared-off directly behind the seats, but curved into the main body of the cabin. Thanking the design gods for that difference, Geordi now knew he was lying behind his own seat with his head towards the aft of the shuttle.

The cargo shuttle door was located at the rear of the craft. It was one massive hatch that he needed to open manually. He was going to have to crawl about eight metres, down almost the whole length of the shuttle. It wasn’t something he was exactly looking forward to.

“Data, buddy,” Geordi said, into the hot, stuffy cabin, “now would be a great time for you to decide to wake up.”

Silence greeted Geordi’s plea and so he started to focus on the task ahead of him. With no idea how long this was going to take him, Geordi guessed he had better get started. 

His broken arm was lying twisted to the side. He got the fingers of his damaged right hand under his left arm and tried to lift it. Midway between his shoulder and his elbow, pain exploded as bone grated on bone. Pushing out a breath between clenched teeth, Geordi persisted, slowly moving his broken arm until it was cradled across his body. He snagged the fingers of his left hand into the fabric of his uniform and at least his arm was now supported in some small degree. Sweat trickled down his face, the pain and the heat both contributing.

Geordi then sat himself up, slowly, steadying himself against the deck with the heel of his right hand. The burns there shrieked at him, but as he moved to that upright position, his broken arm was shouting louder, the bones shifting, the muscles twisting in painful spasm around the break. Grimacing, he took a few deep breaths of hot, humid air, knowing it was only going to get worse from here on in.

Geordi lifted his left hip and, braced against his right hand, shifted himself back a precious few centimetres, dragging his shattered left leg with him. He yelled out, he couldn’t help it. It was a mind-altering level of pain and it swamped Geordi’s consciousness. He faded out for a few moments, propped up on his hand, his head rolling back, his eyes wide open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

It took a long few seconds, but when he had swum back to his senses, Geordi screwed up his courage and did the same with his right hip, lifting his ass off the deck and shifting backwards, this time dragging his fractured ankle along for the ride. A bright pop of agony greeted that effort and it tore a jagged cry of pain from Geordi’s throat.

It was slow and exhausting and agonising, inching his way backwards towards the shuttle’s door. He had to stop after each tiny gain, swooning with pain, panting for breath. 

These were hard won, hard yards, the hardest he’d ever had to make in his life.

God knew how many hours it had taken to drag his broken body down the length of the shuttle, but finally, _finally_ , Geordi felt the solid smack of the shuttle’s door against his sweat-drenched back. He collapsed against its support, utterly spent and shaking with pain. Too far gone to cry or cheer, he just sat there, numb relief settling into his exhausted muscles and broken bones.

*~*~*~*~*

Geordi didn’t think he passed out exactly, it was more like he zoned out. He was still aware of the pain, but his consciousness felt like it had closed in on him. He had no idea how long he’d been sat like that, leaning against the door in a stupor, but it felt like a long time.

When he came back to himself, it didn’t seem as hot and sweat no longer soaked the back of his uniform. Night had fallen on this small, heat-soaked world. 

Geordi needed to move a metre or so to his left and then the panel with the manual door release would be just above his head. Five, six, seven more of those agonising backward shuffles and Geordi was reaching out, the fingers of his right hand feeling for the access panel. He pushed at it and it popped open. He pressed his shaking fingers into the void and felt for the lever, a bar of solid, curved steel. He closed his fingers around it and pulled it down. It moved with an ease and a smoothness that was almost anti-climatic; the locking mechanism disengaged and the hatch lifted open.

A woosh of cool, damp air rushed into the hot, stuffy cabin and Geordi took in long, sweet lungfuls, not caring that it hurt to breathe that deep. It was also going to be contaminated with radiation, but as he was riddled with it anyway, he would worry about that later.

He’d been sweating through his uniform for who knew how many hours; water was his next priority. His exertions, the heat and simply how long it had been since he had last had anything to drink had all contributed to his near dehydration.

Emergency rations were in the back storage lockers, so not too far from his current position. Geordi shuffled his way slowly and painfully to the first locker and popped its cover off. He reached inside for the crate, trying to curl his fingers around the handle. It was heavy and he was struggling to get proper purchase. Burned and then battered from dragging him up the shuttle, his right hand wasn’t doing what he was telling it, his fingers weree quivering uncontrollably.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself. “Come on, La Forge.”

He tried again, but he couldn’t get enough of a grip to move the container even a few centimetres, let alone get it out of the locker and get the lid off.

The reason the crate was so heavy was that it contained thirty-two litres of water, broken down into half-litre rations. They might be marooned on a small planet, but its gravity was horribly close to one G and those thirty-two litres felt like they weighed about thirty-two kilos, the same as they would on Earth. The reason the planetoid had protected them – its massive, dense core – was the reason the gravity here was now conspiring to deprive Geordi of this desperately needed water.

He hadn’t got this far, he hadn’t got this close, to give up now. Geordi waited until his hand stopped shaking, he waited until he had recovered a little of his strength and then he moved himself into a different position, gritting through the pain as he had before. He was now sat parallel to the open panel, an arm’s length away. Geordi grasped the handle, forcing his fingers to close as tightly as he could manage. The pain made him yell, but he wasn’t going to let go. 

Overcoming the inertia of the crate was going to be the thing. Once he got it moving, he would be okay. His plan was to pull as hard as he could whilst leaning to his left, all the way over if need be. He weighed more than the crate so physics said this should work. His wrecked body, however, said that it might not.

His arm straightened as he started to pull. The pain in his hand made him want to howl, but he clenched his jaw and kept the tension in his muscles. After an age of that dreadful strain where nothing happened, the crate shifted suddenly. 

It gave way with no warning and Geordi went flying. He slammed sideways onto the deck, his broken arm taking the brunt of the impact. Geordi managed to cry out briefly before the pain utterly overwhelmed him and he passed out.

When he came to a few seconds or a few minutes later, the pain was still immense, but slowly he was able to sit up, still woozy, still in agony. After a while, panting for breath, he managed to drag himself over to the crate. He patted along the edge, feeling for the latches. He flipped them, one, two, and pushed the lid open. Geordi felt inside and pulled out the first bottle his fingers fell up on. Holding it as tightly as his burns would allow, he brought it up to his mouth and bit down on the lid, twisting the cap off and spitting it aside.

Water poured into his parched mouth and he gulped it down, the whole half-litre gone within seconds. He wanted more, but he knew he needed to strictly ration what what there. 

Finally, out of immediate danger, he could afford to rest before he embarked on his next expedition: to retrieve the first aid kit. Geordi closed his eyes and managed to fall into an exhausted, uneasy sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are graphic descriptions of injuries, broken bones and medical procedures.
> 
> The journey that begins here will be long and difficult and my fic can be quite unflinching in many emotional aspects, which may not be for you.

A light thud, the first sound he’d heard since he’d woken, drew Geordi’s mind from his focused misery. He had been gathering his strength before making an attempt to access the medical supplies.

“Data?” he croaked.

“Geordi,” came the reply and a flood of relief washed over the stricken engineer.

“Thank God. Thank God you’re awake.”

“You are injured,” Data said, his voice moving closer to Geordi with every word.

“I’m pretty busted up. You okay?”

“I am undamaged. The shuttle, however, appears to have suffered a complete power failure and is inoperative. One moment, I will fetch the first aid kit.”

Geordi heard Data move away and then heard one of the lockers opening.

“The medical tricorder has also been affected by the radiation,” Data reported. “It is not functioning. The bone fusion and dermal regeneration units are likewise damaged.”

“Any good news?”

“There are thirty six oral doses of morphine, a further seven days’ supply of lapthamine in hypospray vials.”

“The hypospray working?”

“No, it is not. However, I will attempt a repair and then charge it from my own systems.”

“Then how about some of that morphine?”

“I will first have to assess you. Please describe your injuries.”

Geordi gave Data the lowdown on his broken bones and battered body and then, diligent as ever, Data conducted a physical examination, in particular checking over his pelvis, abdomen and spine for any serious hidden injuries.

“Your ribs are not broken,” Data informed him, “however, I have noted that severe bruising is hampering your breathing. As morphine is a respiratory depressant, I will be closely monitoring for any signs of respiratory distress.”

Data then gave Geordi the first of the doses of morphine. It tasted vile, it was _incredibly_ bitter, but Geordi didn’t care, he was in ruins and he needed that pain relief desperately.

“I will need to reduce your fractures, the fracture-dislocation of your knee and dress your burns,” said Data. “Lapthamine would be the preferred analgesia, due to its dissociative effects, but all doses are primed for delivery via the hypospray. Would you prefer that I try to repair the hypospray? It may take some time.”

“Try. Try and fix the hypospray. I’m… I’m okay here.” 

The morphine was taking effect and Geordi could feel himself easing away from the pain. It was still there, it was still bad, but it was less and he felt as hazy as hell. Yeah, he was okay now… there were drugs and water, and Data was here. He was going to be okay.

Sometime later, a good while Geordi thought but couldn’t be sure, Data approached.

“I have been able to repurpose the actuator piston from my left little finger, in order to replace the damaged hydraulic cylinder in the hypospray’s firing mechanism. I am ready to attempt to administer a dose of lapthamine.”

“You’re amazing,” Geordi murmured.

“We will not know if I was successful until the drug takes effect.”

Geordi felt Data present the nozzle of the hypospray against his neck. Then he felt that very specific push/press sensation of the drug being forced through his skin. Almost immediately he started to feel the effects.

“Whoa,” he said. “What?”

“Are you feeling disoriented, light-headed, woozy?” Data asked.

“Yeah, Data. All three. Oh, oh wow.”

“The full effect will take a moment or two.”

“Am I still here?” Geordi asked, feeling like he wasn’t inside his head anymore.

“Yes, Geordi.”

“You sure?" he replied, his words smearing together. "I feel like I’m not.”

“You are still here.”

“Where? What… what’s happening?”

This felt like his first time anti-grav training. Geordi didn’t know where he was or what was up and what was down and he felt like he was moving even though he knew he wasn’t.

“You will feel a further hypospray, Geordi. I am administering the first of the fifteen anti-radiation doses recommended by protocols.”

The medication fizzed into Geordi’s neck. There was no discernible effect but he wasn’t sure if there would be. Besides, he was so far out of it by now he may not have noticed even if there had been; his thoughts were wandering off on tangents of their own.

“I will now commence cutting off your clothing, please do not be alarmed.”

Geordi's mind boggled at the prospect, his medicated mental images blooming in strange and wonderful ways. 

The worst of it, by a long way, was when Data cut off his right boot, his broken ankle making him cry out. Otherwise, it actually felt good, in that far-off, weirdly distant way, to have his sweat-damp clothes gently removed and have fresh air on his skin. Lying there in his underwear, off his head on pain relief, Geordi started to laugh.

“I will endeavour to make each relocation as swiftly as I am able,” said Data. 

He felt Data lift his left leg and he heard himself scream, but it was like it was someone else, someone way off and not really him. He felt Data grasp his thigh for counter-pressure and then pull and twist his calf. Geordi screamed again and he felt a solid _clunk_ as the joint snapped back into place. It was a far away feeling that was pain and relief at the same time. It all felt so distant, and when Data reduced his ankle fracture and set his broken arm, it was the same; agonising pain that was somehow not really his, followed by a strange relief.

There were splints and braces in the medical supply locker and Data was strapping up Geordi’s leg, ankle and arm. Rods and plates and good old Velcro would hold his broken bones tight, keeping them straight and true until they were able to get him fixed up properly. 

“Geordi, do you need a moment?”

“What? What for?”

“Cleaning and dressing the burns will be especially painful. I was enquiring as to whether you needed a moment before I proceed.”

“I don’t know, I’m way, way over here.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Oh.”

“I shall proceed, as you seem incapable of responding. However, if you need me to stop, please alert me.”

Geordi felt Data take his left hand and then something wonderfully cold was being spread over his burns. There were raw, open nerve endings and the injury needed to be sterilised. When Data started to swab over the wounds, the pain was intense. Even inside his analgesic haze, Geordi was having to grit his teeth. Then more of that cold, glorious gel was spread over the burned and blistered skin and Geordi felt the whisper of gauze being gently laid on his palm. Finally, he felt Data begin to wind the bandages around his hand, weaving it around his thumb and a little way up his wrist and then back across his palm.

Data then repeated this firm, gentle action on Geordi’s right hand, until there was cool, blessed relief on all his burns and bandages around his hands to protect them further.

“As there were significant debris in the wounds of your right hand, I will now administer a broad-spectrum antibiotic.”

Once that was complete, Data gently lifted his splinted left arm and slipped it into a sling. Geordi felt it tighten snuggly, holding his arm securely against his body. Data lent him forward and he felt the strap settling around his neck.

“Is that comfortable, Geordi?” Data asked, leaning him back against the bulkhead.

“Mmmhmm.”

“I will now tend to the laceration on the side of your head.”

Data’s hand gently cradled the back of Geordi’s neck whilst he cleaned out the cut. It hurt, but not so much. Soaring on the drugs, he relaxed into Data’s care, knowing he was safe. With no way to heal the cut, Data had made do and Geordi felt the edges of the wound pinched together and then felt them taped in place. 

Then Geordi heard Data move off.

“As your injuries are now attended to, I will endeavour to make your position on the floor more comfortable.”

"Huh?" Geordi didn’t know what the hell that might mean, he was having great difficulty processing what was being said to him.

“Ah,” he heard Data exclaim. “I have located your VISOR.”

Geordi felt it pressed into the fingers of his right hand and with Data’s help he clipped it into place. The familiar pain thudded into his head, but he hardly noticed, masked as it was by his injuries and the morphine/lapthamine cocktail he had taken. The world burst into view, an explosion of colour and texture and depth, but the massive visual processing his VISOR required was being slowed by the pain relief. Geordi wasn’t seeing quite right; he had been slurring his words and it was also as if he was now slurring his sight.

He gazed up at Data. The golden glow around him shone, sparking within that shower of radiation they were both bathed in. When he moved, it was like he was shifting through a blur of iridescence.

“You never looked more beautiful,” Geordi mumbled.

“Thank you, Geordi. You have never looked more badly injured.”

Geordi sniggered and then his head rolled on his shoulders. “I knew the first time,” he said.

“I do not understand.”

“I knew. The first time I saw you…” Geordi trailed off, his mind tilting away from his train of thought.

“What did you know?”

“You were an android. I could see… I’d seen amazing things but I’d never seen anyone like you.”

“As I was unique within Starfleet that was not unexpected.”

Geordi smiled, a slow, wide, dozy smile. “I wanted to look at you forever.”

“That was not a practical goal.”

“Do you know?” Geordi said, reeling from the drugs. “Do you know that you’re special?”

“I am aware that my array of abilities sets me apart and that I could therefore be described as ‘special’.”

“I’m glad. I’m glad about that. You should know.”

“Perhaps you should try to rest,” Data suggested.

“Hmmmm, I’m tired. I’m so tired.”

Data had moved the long set of cushions off the crew seating area. Laying them on the floor next to Geordi, he helped him onto the makeshift bed. It was so much better than lying on the hard, unforgiving deck and Geordi sank into the softness. With his broken bones set, the pain medication swimming around his system and Data by his side, he felt better than he had in hours.

“Try to sleep,” said Data, tucking a pillow under Geordi’s head. “I will deploy the solar array and attempt to power some of the shuttle’s systems.”

“That sounds… really… really good.” Geordi eased off his VISOR and let Data take it.

“I have laid it 0.25 metres from your right hand.”

It was okay. He could relax now, he could rest now. Data had this. 


	4. Chapter 4

Geordi’s condition was now acceptable and he was sleeping. So while Geordi slept, Data worked.

The hypospray was a simple device which Data had easily fixed. The tricorders on board had been too badly damaged to repair, their far more sophisticated circuitry had almost completely burned out when their power supply overloaded. At the same time, he had also attempted to repair the bone fusion and dermal regeneration units without success. He had salvaged what he could, but there was little that had been unaffected by the massive radiation burst.

Data was taking off each access panel from the shuttle’s systems in turn, carrying out an assessment of damage, noting potential repairs that could be carried out, the length of time needed, subsequent power demand requirements, whilst also analysing Geordi’s response to the pain relief. It was remarkable, the effects that plant-based alkaloids could have on humanoid brain activity. Geordi’s ability to hold a coherent conversation had been almost immediately affected, his choice of words and topics meandering and strange.

As he methodically checked each system, Data reflected that it was also remarkable that, given the extent of his injuries, Geordi had been able to open the shuttle’s door. The patch of blood that was soaked into the carpet was 8.27 metres from the door. He knew he did not, that he could not, understand what it had been like for Geordi because for Data, pain was an abstract concept. Yet he found himself repeatedly attempting to comprehend. 

His main point of reference was the incident on Minos and the injuries that Dr Crusher had suffered. As with Geordi, she had suffered a broken arm and leg, although her blood loss was more severe which had led to clinical shock. The smallest movement had caused her so much pain, that she would nearly lose consciousness. How then had Geordi managed to crawl with three broken limbs down the length of the shuttle?

Data had been in safe mode for 19 hours, 47 minutes and 14 seconds. Given a single human’s average oxygen requirements, the shuttle, with its environmental systems in shutdown, had only 14 hours, 12 minutes and 32 seconds of air available. If Geordi had not been successful in his attempt to open the door, he would have suffocated approximately 5 hours, 34 minutes and 42 seconds before Data had reactivated.

As Data reviewed the many cases on file where incapacitating injuries had been surmounted, all seemed to have that one commonality; the necessity of survival. It was not necessary for Dr Crusher to attempt to save herself as Captain Picard and then Data himself were on hand to assist her.

It was fascinating that pain could be so overwhelming and yet at the same time it could also be overcome. He would discuss this with Geordi, once he was coherent, and gain his insight into the matter.

His review of the shuttle complete, Data opened the locker that contained the solar array. The panel was rolled up and stood almost as tall as Data, its diameter 1.35 metres when stowed. The android hoisted the huge cylinder onto his shoulder and carried it outside.

He noted the local flora: moss, lichen, ferns. There was an absence of any obvious animal life, no insects were in evidence, there were no avian life-forms, there was no sound of any kind, except the susurration of the wind. Vegetation-covered hills rolled into the distance, the thick, humid atmosphere meaning they merged into a grey-green mist some 6.34 kilometres from Data’s current position.

His assessment of the thick covering of ferns surrounding their position meant the most advantageous position for the array was on top of the shuttle. He let the large roll drop into his hands as he calculated the force and trajectory required to place it onto the roof. He launched the cylinder with a flick of his wrists and it landed with a thump which Data hoped would not wake Geordi. 

Then he climbed onto the shuttle, removed the securing ties and unfurled the flexible solar array and its power relay cabling. The roof of the shuttle was now partially covered by the dark mat of power cells, to an area of 5.4m2, which Data had calculated would produce 1.75 x 10^4 Joules at noon under local conditions. It would not be much, given that the shuttle’s usual power requirements were several orders of magnitude greater. However, it should be sufficient for a minimal, rationed, rotating power supply to some of the shuttle’s systems. 

He jumped off the roof and landed with a graceful sure-footedness. He gathered the trail of cables that hung down off the roof and brought them into the shuttle. After connecting the cables, Data waited at the conn until the meagre power flickered his console into life. All the other stations were dark, Data having focused the initial supply to this single location.

Scrolling to communications, Data tapped in several commands.

“Data to _Enterprise._ ” 

When there was no response, Data made some adjustments and re-tried.

“ _Enterprise,_ come in, please.”

Again, there was no reply, so Data applied additional filters to the radio bands and directed the computer to retry his message for the next 3.62 hours. At that time, night would begin to fall and the power would dip below usable levels. It was very possible that radiation was still an issue, too intense to allow this low-power message to cut through.

“How’s it going?”

“Geordi. I have minimal power to the communications array and have begun to broadcast on rotating frequencies until sundown.”

“You’ve not heard anything?”

“No, there has been only static. Did you sleep well?”

His friend sighed. “I guess. Had some weird dreams.”

“How is your pain?”

“It’s not so bad, but it’s getting there,” said Geordi, managing to find his VISOR but struggling to pick it up. Data hurried over and assisted him in attaching the device.

“You are overdue for your next dose of morphine. You need water. I have also unpacked the emergency rations and I have a selection available.”

“I wouldn’t get better service if I was staying at the London Ritz,” Geordi smiled, though Data could tell from the tension in his face that it was masking his discomfort. 

“Would you like food or pain relief first?”

“Morphine. Then the water and the food might just take the taste away.”

“As you wish.”

Within a few minutes of ingesting the morphine, Geordi had visibly relaxed.

The foil ration packs all looked identical. The contents were listed on each packet in several Federation languages and could be scanned with a tricorder for further nutritional information. As they had no functional tricorders, Data would have to give Geordi the name of the meal only.

“Will that be sufficient for you to make a determination?”

“I should think so, Data, yeah.” Geordi was smiling more widely now.

If he had been asked, Data would have described Geordi as having smiled ‘fondly’. He began to list the choices available.

“Chilli Con Carne. Moroccan Bean Stew. Chicken Jalfrezi. Tuna Pasta Bake. Shepherd’s Pie. Pok Tar with Redspice—”

“Tuna pasta sounds good,” Geordi said.

“Was there a reason for your choice?” Data asked tearing open the meal. Ripping off the top created an exothermic reaction in the packaging. After stirring for a few moments, the contents were heated and then ready to consume. 

“I don’t want anything too spicy. Save those for when it’s a little cooler in here.”

Data inclined his head in understanding. “Starfleet has endeavoured to produce flavoursome rations, as a morale boost in difficult circumstances. Has the choice available ‘boosted your morale’, Geordi?”

“Uh… it’s true they all taste pretty good. But then they all have the consistency of mashed potato, so...”

“So...? That is a bad thing?” asked Data, continuing to stir whilst noting Geordi’s tone.

“Not bad. Boring,” Geordi said. “I guess Starfleet considered croutons an extravagance in an emergency.”

“So texture is important in food as well as flavour and aroma? Hm!”

Data carefully handed Geordi the heated packet of food. He was just able to hold it, wedged into the fingers of his bandaged left hand. Before Data was able to hand him the spoon, he noted his friend’s expression had changed. Data would categorise it as one of disgust.

“I don’t think I can eat this, Data. I’m sorry.”

“What is wrong?”

“I think it’s the morphine, it’s making me nauseous.”

Data took the foil pack from Geordi and then he watched as his friend pressed the back of his right hand against his mouth and nose.

“Do you feel you are about to vomit?”

Geordi shook his head. He was taking some slow, deep breaths. “Just trying to block the smell.”

“Would you like to select a different meal?”

“No, just some water would be good.”

Data opened a bottle and presented it to Geordi. He took it awkwardly in his damaged hand and lifted it to his mouth. Between the smooth, soft bandage and Geordi’s compromised grip, the bottle slipped.

Data’s hand flashed out, lightening quick.

“Nice catch,” said Geordi.

“Thank you,” Data replied. “May I?”

Geordi nodded. Data then supported the base of the bottle as Geordi tipped the liquid into his mouth.

“Water alone will not be sufficient. You will need to consume several meals per day.”

“I’ll try it again later. It won’t go to waste, cold tuna pasta is okay.”

“The preservatives mean it will be edible for several days after heating.”

“Glad to hear it.” Geordi appeared to reflect on something. “You really didn’t know that? About texture?”

“I have had no specific discussions on the topic. It had never occurred to me as my own sensory inputs are singular.”

“And then they’re processed independently,” Geordi nodded. “Flavour is a blend of taste and aroma and then texture is a whole other layer after that. Maybe you could try blending your post-processed outputs, see what happens?”

“An intriguing hypothesis. I will ‘see what happens’ at a more opportune moment.” Data created a file, wrote a subroutine and saved it for execution at a date to be specified. “Fascinating. Is it analogous to the way you are able to see music, Geordi?”

“Not exactly. Flavour, maybe, but the texture thing is more like…” Geordi paused, searching as he often did for an explanation that Data would be able to comprehend, given his frames of reference. 

“It’s like how… how a single note of music would stop being music and so you wouldn’t enjoy it anymore.”

Data appreciated Geordi’s patience and diligence with regard to these inquiries. It was unusual in Data’s experience, as he had often noted impatience and exasperation in even those he considered friends. Geordi had always been different in this regard. 

“Thank you, Geordi," Data said, "I believe I understand.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Data?”

“Yes, Geordi.”

“I, uh… I need to pee.”

“One moment,” came Data’s completely unfazed reply. “I will fetch a receptacle.”

Geordi watched Data return and kneel next to him. He was offering him one of the discarded water bottles.

“Data, I can’t…” Geordi gestured with his bandaged right hand. “You’re going to have to—”

“Ah, I will assist you.”

Geordi managed to slide his fingers into his underwear, take hold and then ease himself free of the fabric. Deliberately not looking and trying desperately not to think, Geordi gazed up at the ceiling of the shuttle as Data manoeuvred the bottle until the lip was touching the end of his penis.

“You may begin,” said Data.

Nothing happened for a second or two.

“You may commence with urination,” encouraged Data.

Still nothing.

“Childhood conditioning can be difficult to overcome,” Data said kindly, though it sounded like he was quoting from some parenting manual he had accessed.

“Come on,” said Geordi under his breath, willing his bladder to let go in these bizarre and painful circumstances. 

After a few more moments of nothing, Geordi was finally able to force himself to ‘overcome his childhood conditioning’. Lying there in his shorts and undershirt, he sighed deeply, partly with relief but also, it had to be said, with a fair amount of embarrassment. 

“Oh, this was _so_ not how I saw this mission going,” he groaned.

“There have been a number of unpredictable events.”

“You can say that again.”

A few years ago, Data would have done exactly that, he would have repeated his words verbatim at Geordi’s suggestion. Data merely nodded and went to recycle the bottle of urine. 

He’d come a long way in the last few years, Geordi thought, pride for his friend’s achievements swelling in his chest. So much so, it even managed to push aside the cringe-inducing awkwardness of the whole having-to-pee-in-a-bottle situation.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Data asked on his return.

“Could you get a PADD working?” Geordi said. “I need something to do. I need… I can’t just lie here.”

He was now in that sweet spot, where the morphine had softened all the sharp edges of his pain but he wasn’t too medicated to think. His engineer’s brain was itching to get into the wrecked systems of the shuttle. Though he wouldn’t be able to physically fix anything, he could certainly take some of the computational and diagnostic tasks off Data. Routing the PADD into their one working console would free Data up to begin the actual repairs.

“I will attempt to enable one for you. Whilst that is underway, do you wish to discuss any topics? Or I could sing for you.”

Geordi beamed at Data. Who else in the galaxy had ever had an offer like that? To be serenaded by an android to pass the time while marooned on some rock, awaiting rescue. 

“You can sing for me at suppertime. What do our power consumption curves look like?”

They began to discuss in depth the various systems and how they might squeeze more power out of the solar array. Ideas bounced back and forth, tangents were taken and then pulled back, and over time Data’s initial strategy evolved into something a little more improvised. Geordi’s more flexible approach had allowed him to see where an extra few Watts could be coaxed out of the array. Now with a PADD in hand, he was able to run those numbers and a basic simulation, giving Data the schematic for the alterations that would be required.

Data nodded as he scrolled the diagrams, then he exited the shuttle and a short time later, Geordi could hear him clumping around on the roof.

“I’ve had a thought,” Geordi said when Data came back in.

“Please elaborate,” Data replied, checking and confirming to Geordi with a nod that the slight increase in power was now flowing.

It wasn’t much… but every extra scrap of energy was going to help, especially if Geordi’s new idea could be made to work.

“How many of the power cells do you think you might be able to salvage?”

“There was extensive damage across the range of equipment. Only three have retained full functionality. One is in your PADD, the others I have reserved to power the hypospray.”

“Do we have any that are borderline? Even if they’re drip-feeding charge, that would be okay.”

“There were several which were holding only a partial charge. They will not offer a significant contribution to our power requirements.”

“Partial is fine. I’m not thinking about powering anything from them, not directly. I’m thinking, can we build a basic kind of capacitor? Even those very early batteries could hold a massive charge. Pour in every scrap of power we can from any cells that have any charge left, the whole day’s solar array output, everything.”

“That technology has been obsolete for more than two centuries. There would also be no way to regulate the discharge from such a device.”

“We don’t need to, if we channel it directly through the communications array.”

Data’s head ticked to the side. “Please go on.”

“Have you heard of DFDP?” Geordi asked.

Data’s memory bank was extensive but not exhaustive.

“There are several acronyms of that nature, please specify.”

“Back in the day, when humans were still messing around at sub-warp relativistic speeds, we needed a form of communication that could cut through the gravimetric and near-light speed distortions as you approach _c_.”

“Yes, Geordi, subspace radio was developed for this reason.”

La Forge shook his head. “ _Before_ subspace they used DFDP protocols. Discrete Forced Data Packets. They needed a way to punch through the interference, so they’d record their message in discrete blocks, load the data packets into their comm system and then blast a charge through their radio antennae.”

“Intriguing. However, there is nothing but a footnote in my memory file.”

“It didn’t last long, when subspace radio came along it was obsolete within a decade, I think. I only know about it because one of my professors was a radio ham. If you don’t have anything on the process, I guess we’re going to have to reinvent the wheel.”

“Indeed. This will be a not inconsiderable undertaking. However, the idea has merit and as we have been unable to contact the _Enterprise_ with conventional radio technology thus far, I believe we should try.”

Geordi’s spirits soared. He felt a surge of hope and positivity that rivalled the moment he heard Data’s voice call out to him in the darkness. They could do this. Together they could make this work.


	6. Chapter 6

Data had laid out the various power cells which required attention. There were more than thirty which were either damaged or only partially functional. 

“I can do this,” Geordi assured him.

His friend appeared sceptical. “To manually recalibrate the cells will take a considerable amount of time. Also, each channel is only ten microns in width.”

“Your positronic filaments are only eight, I’m okay with those.”

“It is true that you have excellent fine motor control. However, you have not worked on my systems with burn damage to your hands.”

“So I’ll zoom in a little closer and it might take me a little longer. What else is there for me to do?”

“Very little,” Data conceded.

“Then give me that first batch of cells and the narrow-band proton emitter. The sooner we start the sooner we’ll be done.”

While Geordi got started recalibrating the damaged channels within the power cells, Data began breaking apart the aft stations of the shuttle. They needed the optical cabling, the power conduit trunking and as much of the insulation from between the duranium panelling as he could salvage.

Over the next three hours, Geordi painstakingly realigned and recalibrated two of the power cells. It had felt great to have the emitter in his hand and to be fixing something, but the consequences of having to focus through the fog of pain relief were now coming home to roost.

As he had also had to magnify his vision for a protracted amount of time, his permanent low-grade headache had been kicked up into a full-on migraine. The pain that was thudding into his temples was competing with the jagged song from his broken bones, as that morning’s dose of morphine was now close to wearing off.

“When’s my next pain relief due?” he asked, breathing through the discomfort, trying to hold off the worst of it.

“Twenty three minutes, twelve seconds,” Data replied. “If you are experiencing pain now, I would be able to administer lapthamine in lieu of the morphine.”

“We should keep that for when I really need it, for when you need to move me. Besides, that stuff knocks me sideways, I’d be out of it for hours.”

“As you wish,” said Data, and he went back to his artful destruction of the shuttle’s interior.

Geordi clicked off his VISOR and tucked it into his sling. The instant darkness was an astonishing relief. There was still violent pain, like an ice-pick hacking into his skull, but the tension in his head, neck and shoulders eased and the lack of visual input felt immediately soothing.

“Geordi?” he heard Data ask, his friend not needing to elaborate further than uttering his name with concern.

“I’m fine,” Geordi replied, closing his eyes.

“You do not look fine. You look to be in considerable pain.”

“Well, okay, not fine, I’m… I can make it twenty minutes. Talk to me, Data. How’s our capacitor coming along?”

With his VISOR off, Geordi focused on the progress report. He let go of the pain, it was useless to try to fight it. Instead, he let Data’s calming voice move his mind away from the gnawing agony. As Data spoke, Geordi’s thoughts turned to power relays and surge control. He thought about packet bundles and antenna linkages, about programme handling and coding protocols.

By the time Data had completed his update, with Geordi chipping in queries and questions, more than thirty minutes had gone by.

After Data had given him his morphine and helped him drink some water, Geordi felt able to clip his VISOR back into place. The drug made things a pretty hazy for the first half an hour or so, but it was nowhere near as bad as when it was combined with lapthamine.

“What I have just observed was intriguing,” said Data.

“What do you mean?”

“You were in so much pain, you removed your VISOR, something I have rarely observed you do. Yet once we began to discuss my progress with the capacitor, I noted a marked decrease in your facial tension and in your heart rate, indicating you were experiencing less pain. With the effects of the morphine declining, I had anticipated that the opposite should have been the case.”

“You were helping take my mind off it. You gave me something else to think about, other than the pain.”

“And that had a physiological as well as a psychological result? Fascinating. I have been meaning to discuss this topic with you. Would this be an opportune moment?”

“What, you want to talk about pain?”

“More specifically, how you were able to overcome your injuries and open the door.”

“I mean… it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“I understand, however, are you able to elaborate on your thought processes?” 

“I can try, if you want me to.”

“If it is not too difficult for you speak about, I would greatly appreciate your input.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t know when or if you were going to wake up… I kept hoping that I’d hear your voice.” Geordi was quiet for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. “I knew a fair amount of time had passed but not exactly how much. I couldn’t wait any longer to see if you’d reboot. I mean, I knew it was going to be bad, but it was… _so_ bad. It was worse than I could have imagined.”

“Did you think of other things, to ‘take your mind off it’?”

“The opposite, probably.”

Data looked confused at his contradictory answer, so Geordi tried to explain.

“It was so… completely overwhelming. I had to focus everything I had on getting those next few centimetres and then the next. There wasn’t room in my head for anything else.”

“So it is the level of pain which dictates which strategy will be successful?”

“I guess. The lower level stuff you can think your way through or around. But when I had to move, there was just no way, the pain was so immense, it filled my whole head.”

“With injuries to both legs, may I ask how you were able to move yourself?”

“Are you planning on writing a thesis?” Geordi asked, raising one eyebrow.

“No, Geordi, I am merely fascinated by the severity of your injuries versus the task that was accomplished.”

Geordi smiled at his friend’s boundless curiosity. “I sat myself up, leaned on my hand, lifted my left hip and dragged my leg a few centimetres. Then I did the same on the right. I moved back towards the door that way.” 

“That is a highly inefficient mode of locomotion.”

“I wasn’t going for a World’s Record, Data.”

“Indeed, my apologies. A better phrasing maybe that it required large energy expenditure for very little gain.”

Geordi nodded. “I was pretty exhausted after the first few repetitions.”

“Do you know how many repetitions it took for you to reach the door?”

“No, I don’t have any idea. I wasn’t keeping count, I was kind of trying to focus on not passing out every few seconds.”

“Ah. As someone who experiences chronic pain, did that experience assist you?”

“Data…I—” Geordi broke off and sighed. “I guess the answer is, I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought of that. It… it was so far beyond anything I’d ever felt. Honestly? I’m not sure anything could have prepared me.”

“Are you able to describe the difference between your experience of chronic pain versus acute pain?”

That was a hell of a question. Geordi thought for a while and it was another music metaphor that his mind kept returning to.

“You know that time I tried to play your violin?”

Data’s face registered a flicker discomfort. “Yes, Geordi,” he replied evenly, although a certain tightness was evident in his voice.

“That screeching, that scraping of the bow over the strings… that’s kind of like acute pain. It’s loud and… discordant and penetrating and just impossible to ignore. You just want it to _stop_. Chronic pain is if you were bouncing the bow off the same low note, over and over and over. It’s dull and draining and monotonous. It drags you down and it’s hard to get out from under.”

“That is an intriguing way to illustrate your comparative experience. How are your pain levels currently?”

“They’re good, Data.”

“Thank you, Geordi. This has been a most enlightening discussion. I hope it did not cause you any distress.”

“Not at all. You make me think about things I never otherwise would, in _ways_ I never otherwise would. I love that about you.”

Data’s face shifted with subtle surprise and there was a slight delay before he replied. “That is very kind of you to say.”

Geordi looked up at his friend from his makeshift bed on the floor. It was true. He might be able to see the whole electromagnetic spectrum, but there were things that he had seen only because Data had been there to show him.


	7. Chapter 7

They fell into a daily routine of medication, food, Data assisting Geordi with what he insisted on calling ‘his ablutions’ and working on their alterations to the communications array.

It was the end of their fifth day on the planetoid and they had been pouring the output from the solar panelling and the power cells into their makeshift capacitor for the last seven hours. As the sun began to set and the power flow from the solar array began to drop, Data made the preparations for their first test.

“Are you ready, Geordi?”

With no functioning tricorders and with all of their power dumped into the capacitor, no computer to monitor their test, Geordi’s VISOR was the only thing they had. It was the only thing that could detect the forced radio pulse they were hoping to send.

Geordi nodded. He had dialled through the energy bands and was focusing his vision down at the 20 to 30 GHz range. The seething, churning colours of his usual vision took on less importance, the intensity somehow draining away, as he concentrated past the far infrared, past microwaves and into the super high radio frequencies they were aiming to produce.

Data was stood next to the communications array and he was keying in the commands.

“Initiating discharge now,” he said and pressed the button on the console.

“Damn!” Geordi yelped. “That was bright!”

“It has worked?”

“Yeah, the packets all got kicked up into the megawatt range. The pulses looked great.”

Geordi had seen a whip-crack of light lash through the air. That burst of energy dragged after it a rapid sequence of compact radio pulses. He’d seen them break out from the antenna and then been able to follow the pulses as they flowed out into the atmosphere.

“Were you able to ascertain the dispersal ratio?”

“It was minimal, they kept their focus beautifully. We did it! We did it, Data!”

Inside of a few hours, anyone within the solar system would see a sudden, powerful, pulsed radio spike. 

All they could do was wait and hope that the _Enterprise_ was able to respond.

*~*~*~*

His friend had been, for want of a better word, dithering about something since late that morning. 

The previous day’s test had thrown up some adjustments that were required to the antenna array. Data was carrying these out whilst they waited for their capacitor to recharge throughout the day. A small amount of power was now permanently diverted to their receiver, their comm panel blinking steadily whilst it waited for a signal.

Data had seemed to be on the brink of speaking on several occasions, but then thought better of it. He had also glanced over more than once, pulled a very slight face and then just as quickly glanced away when he’d seen that Geordi was looking.

Furtive didn’t suit Data and Geordi had eventually felt compelled to say something.

“Is there something on your mind?”

“It is a delicate matter,” Data replied. “I have been pondering the most suitable way to raise it.”

“You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“Thank you, Geordi, however, I do not wish to embarrass you.”

“Is it… worse than you having to help me pee?”

Data considered the comparison but seemed undecided.

“I do not know. Perhaps I should just say what is on my mind?” Data suggested.

“Perhaps,” said Geordi, nodding his encouragement.

“May I broach the subject of your bathing requirements?”

So that was it. Geordi supressed a smile, Data’s considerate tip-toeing around his feelings more than making up for the fact his best friend had essentially just told him that he smelled. 

“Things are getting a little ripe in here, huh?” he said.

“The humid atmosphere, your physical exertions and the length of time I estimate since you last showered have all contributed to a most… pungent odour.”

Poor old Data, his enhanced olfactory sense must have been taking a terrible battering.

“A nice, long, cold shower,” Geordi mused, almost able to feel the water running over his body. For a moment, he let his imagination fill with those impossible sensations. “Oh,” he purred, “that would be bliss.”

In reality his body was sticky with the heat, his skin was coated in the sweat and grime of several days and, now that Data mentioned it, he did smell pretty fierce.

“A shower’s out of the question, though,” Geordi said. “So, I mean, are you proposing you give me a sponge bath?”

“The logistics will be difficult,” said Data. “And I do not wish to cause you any additional pain, however I believe that you would ‘feel better’ if you were clean.”

“I’m sorry that I stink,” said Geordi. “And I do feel pretty gross, but it’s not exactly our priority right now.”

Data looked crestfallen.

Geordi peered up at his friend. “Is it that bad?”

There was a pause and then Data said a timid, “No… ”

Geordi was amazed. 

“Was… was that a lie, Data?” It happened so rarely, Geordi had very few examples to compare it to.

“Yes,” Data replied, equally meekly.

“Maybe… maybe we do need to figure something out then.” 

*~*~*~*

It was intimate and gentle and not like anything Geordi had ever experienced with anyone. To be held, to be bathed, to have his injuries venerated with such tender concern, it was almost too much for him to process, being touched in this way. 

It felt so wonderful, to have a cool, damp cloth drawn over his heated skin. To have water spill over him, the sweat and the grime washed gently from his body, taking with it, somehow, the pain and distress of all those agonised hours.

It was an act of focused intimacy, an act that was not sexual and yet was deeply sensual, and it was damn near stopping his breath.

His body was supported with Data’s quiet strength and water whispered over his skin. His thoughts stalled as the cloth swept softly across his chest, his ribs, his stomach. The gentle caress of calm hands and cool water a salve and a balm and a comfort.

When it was done, Data took away the cloth, the bowl and the water.

“Thank you,” said Geordi, finding himself inexplicably close to tears.

“You are most welcome,” said Data.

He then resumed his work modifying the antenna, leaving Geordi’s body clean and cool and his mind in turmoil.


	8. Chapter 8

“They’re not coming, are they?” Geordi asked.

He had been quiet for some time, brooding on their situation having just taken the last dose of morphine. He’d considered delaying taking those last few doses, but pain now or pain later, he’d decided it made little difference. The lapthamine and antibiotics had run out two days’ previously and now just six of the fifteen daily radiation treatments remained.

“I do not know,” Data said in reply to his bleak enquiry.

Nine days since the supernova, nine days since they had landed and there had been no contact with the _Enterprise_. Nothing. She had survived the blast and, with her metaphasic shielding intact, she should have been in better shape than they were.

They had been able to broadcast the full-strength, 15 megawatt signal on three separate occasions, but had received no answer. Data had made continuous alterations and modifications to their setup and yet they hadn’t heard so much as a squeal of feedback.

“Data?” he said into the silence.

His friend looked up attentively by way of a reply.

“I want to see outside,” Geordi announced, “while you can still move me.” ‘ _And not have me scream,’_ he left as implied.

His reasons for wanting to do this also remained unsaid. He’d seen nothing but the inside of the shuttle since they’d landed. His position, lying on the floor at the back of the craft, meant all he could see out of the front windows was a non-descript patch of sky that glittered with radiation. He wanted to see what was out there. To see where fate had brought him. To see where fate might just end up leaving him.

Data knelt by his side. Geordi sat forward and put his arm around Data’s neck. He then felt Data’s arms slip around his shoulders and under his knees. Gritting his teeth as his body moved, Geordi tightened his grip. Data stood with ease, his graceful strength lifting him off the floor as if it was no effort at all. Geordi’s left leg stuck out stiffly in its splint, each step Data took jarring his broken bones, tolerable only because that last dose of morphine was in his system.

Data turned so that Geordi could see out of the door. He could feel the warm breeze on his skin as he looked out over rolling hills, a world that to Geordi shimmered with heat and seethed with colour. Data gently laid him down in the doorway and sat down next to him, his arm around Geordi’s shoulders, supporting him still.

They sat and watched the sun go down and neither of them spoke. 

Night fell quickly on this small world, the temperature falling to a more bearable level. It was still over 30o Celsius but Geordi shivered. A deep, twisting shudder worked its way through his body and his skin rippled with its quicksilver chill.

“Are you cold?” Data asked, no doubt having felt him shudder.

Geordi didn’t reply right away. He knew what he was about to say was going to change everything. His eyes were hot in their sockets, his joints droned with a dull, incessant ache and his muscles felt drained of all energy. He had done nothing but sit on his makeshift bed all day and yet he felt exhausted.

“Data, I think I’m getting sick.”

He felt his friend turn to look at him, but Geordi kept staring straight ahead. He watched the ocean of ferns in front of him. He watched them shift and move and flow as they billowed in the strong, humid breeze. Colours pulsed and throbbed. He watched clouds pull across a polychromic sky that was darkening, darkening, darkening. And all the while, radiation fell like iridescent rain.

*~*~*~*

_Second Officer’s log, Stardate 43145.3_

_Lt. Commander La Forge’s condition continues to deteriorate. His temperature is 39.6 o Celsius and his pain is no longer under control. He is delirious. Having redressed the burns to his hands, I have noted they appear to be the source of the infection. There is little I can do for him now that the medications have run out. I intend to make a survey of the local flora in the hope there may be some of a medicinal nature, either antibiotic or analgesic. _

_I have continued with the modifications to our battery device and communications array to attempt improvement and have begun re-programming our DFDP protocols. The lack of any response is disconcerting though the radiation may still be too intense. Of more concern is the fact that the Enterprise was aware of our destination and as yet it would appear no shuttlecraft has been despatched. Therefore I surmise that they were more severely damaged than our sensors initially showed._

Data ended his internally recorded log entry and knelt next to Geordi, his VISOR-less eyes flickering open at his approach. The damp cloth placed on his forehead was no longer sufficiently wet. Data re-soaked it and placed it back on Geordi’s brow. He moaned and mumbled something. Data refreshed the cloths that covered his arms and legs and wetted his undershirt to help cool his body.

“Mom?” Geordi muttered.

“It is Data,” he replied, knowing it would make little difference, but not quite able to let the error go uncorrected.

“Did… you move it?”

“To what are you referring?”

“Off the table,” Geordi said, his head turning listlessly to the side. “D’you move it off the table?”

“I did not,” said Data.

“Ari moved it?”

“I do not know, she may have,” Data replied, trying to placate his agitated friend.

“It hurts,” said Geordi, his eyes closing as pain creased his face.

“I know.” 

Data replaced the cloth that had slipped when Geordi turned his head, holding it in place.

“Make it stop,” Geordi pleaded.

“I cannot,” Data said, helplessly.

Geordi reached out blindly for him and snagged his fingers into Data’s uniform.

“Please,” he begged. “ _Please_.”

“I need to check on the local plant life, Geordi. I will be back as soon as I am able.”

He did not like to leave him but the survey needed to be carried out sooner rather than later. Data gently prised Geordi’s fingers free of his tunic and laid his hand down.

Data exited the shuttle to the sound of his friend crying out for him in distress. 

“Don’t go… don't go, please!”

He took with him the compact shovel from the survival kit. He extended the handle, locked it in place and approached the closest specimen. He had no other tools with him as the tricorders were still non-functional.

Data pulled off a small piece of leaf. He then put it in his mouth and chewed. The breakdown of the plant’s chemical make-up was unremarkable. There were no useful compounds. Neither were there any in the stems or the fibrous bark. Data next sampled the moss that grew on its coarse trunk. A small amount of an alkaloid was present. A potential painkiller, however there were also similarities to a family of chemicals which were known to be toxic to humanoids. Without the proper lab equipment needed for a more detailed analysis, Data would not be proceeding with this substance at this time.

He began to dig up the fern and accessed its root system. As he sampled it, the dirt gritted between his teeth and Data noted that again, the plant had little in the way of medicinal potential. He did observe the tuber was a store for complex carbohydrates, akin to a reedmace or heart of palm, two staple foods of early humans. If Geordi survived his current illness and they remained stranded, he would be able to consume these roots when the ration packs ran out in approximately ten days’ time.

Data checked the other species of fern and their particular mosses and lichens but none offered any solution to their lack of pain relief or antibiotics.

He re-entered the shuttle and put the shovel back into stores. He washed his hands and then refreshed Geordi’s cooling cloths. He assisted him in drinking some small portion of water. Data then sat next to his friend and curled his fingertips together with Geordi’s, holding that part of his hand that was not injured. He spoke softly with him to people who were not there, about things that only Geordi was aware, waiting and listening. 

They needed something from the _Enterprise_ and soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will take a turn for the worse in the next chapters, with severe, worsening illness meaning a bleak outlook for our sweet, soft boys. Further notes at the end of the chapter.

Data had been unable to determine an accurate blood pressure for Geordi, though it had become clear that it was dropping. He had been monitoring Geordi’s heart rate at regular intervals via the radial pulse in his wrists, but Data was now unable to locate these pulse points. This suggested his systolic pressure had fallen over the last four hours. His femoral pulse was still detectable and Data would now monitor at this site. It was a concerning development, as Geordi’s confusion, rapid heart rate and falling blood pressure all pointed to the onset of sepsis.

Data brought over one of the empty storage boxes and used it to elevate Geordi’s legs above the level of his heart. It would help support his blood pressure in some small regard. Geordi’s temperature was on an upward trajectory and was now 40.4o Celsius. More radical cooling was required, particularly in this humid atmosphere. 

Data went to retrieve Geordi’s pressure suit from its locker. It was standard procedure for the crew of a shuttle to stow their EVA suits in case of emergency. This was not the type for which the regulations had been written, yet it was an emergency nonetheless.

The suit was in four main parts; the helmet, which Data did not require and left on the shelf, the outer pressure suit itself and again, Data disregarded this item. It was the inner temperature regulation garment and the backpack which Data was going to utilise.

The integral power supply within the backpack had suffered some damage but as Data examined it, he was gratified to see it was less than had been sustained by their other equipment. This was due to the pack’s intrinsic radiation shielding. As its usual area of operation was the unprotected vacuum of space, considerable layers of safeguarding were included as standard. Data was able to utilise some parts scavenged from the shuttle and in fairly short order, the power supply was functional.

Data connected the backpack to the socket in the garment and powered up the internal pump. Depending on the nature and locale of the Extra-Vehicular Activity, one could either cycle heated or chilled fluid through the suit. Data had chosen the latter. Coolant began to flow around the 91.5 metres of tubules that were stitched into the fabric. Data could feel the sinuous lines begin to fill with fluid and spread around the suit. 

Data next cut away Geordi’s undershirt and eased it away from his body. Geordi groaned and weakly tried to push him away. 

He then brought over the coolant-laden garment along with the backpack. Given his injuries, it would be impractical to dress Geordi in the suit, so Data laid it over him, pressing it against his skin as a cooling blanket. As carefully as he could, Data untied the sling from around Geordi’s neck and lifted his broken arm off his chest. His friend cried out and Data apologised, sliding the body of the garment beneath the sling, so that it fully covered his bare chest. Data then moved the arms of the suit around to the back of Geordi’s neck, folding them until they formed a pillow that cradled the base of his skull. Data hoped this would assist with cooling blood flow to Geordi’s brainstem. He re-secured the sling and then he let Geordi be.

The backpack should keep the garment cooled for up to twenty hours. Data would need to ensure there was sufficient spare capacity from their solar array to recharge the backpack when necessary. This would impact on the amount of power he could send through the communications array but that could not be helped. Attempting to stabilise Geordi’s condition now took priority.

Some time later, he heard Geordi stir.

“Data?” His voice was weak and clearly it was a great effort for him to speak. “Are you there?” 

“I am here,” he replied and was by his side in a moment. “May I get you anything?”

“A drink.”

Data helped him to sit and then to drink.

“Where are we?” said Geordi, resting his head on Data’s chest.

As he leaned heavily against him, Data could feel the heat radiating from him. His rapid heart rate fluttered against Data’s sensors.

“Do you not recall? We are on an M-Class planetoid in the Darell Cluster.”

“We’re… we’re not on the _Enterprise?”_ He sounded exhausted.

“No, we are not.”

Geordi took this in. “Is that why it hurts so bad?”

“I am afraid so.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What is it that are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it...”

“I do not know what you are referring to.”

“It’s wrong. It’s all gone wrong.” 

“Do not distress yourself. You must rest and… get better,” Data said, trying his best to soothe him.

He laid him gently back down but as he did so, Geordi reached out, his fingertips searching for and then brushing against Data’s cheekbone. 

“I didn’t mean... for this,” he said and he appeared close to tears.

“This is not your fault. You must not worry, you must rest. I will stay with you.”

At that, Geordi eased back into the pillow, pain still etched on his face. Data rearranged the cooling garment over and around his body as before and then he sat down next to him. He was close enough that Geordi could reach out to touch him, if he felt the need. 

He had intended to stay only until Geordi settled. However, Data found that he was unwilling to leave his side. So he remained, staying close to his ailing friend until long after the sun had set.

*~*~*~*

The following morning, day twelve, Data was unable to detect a femoral pulse. This indicated that Geordi’s blood pressure had fallen still further. Data now had only his carotid pulse available for palpation. It flickered at 132 beats per minute and his respiration remained rapid and shallow. His temperature, despite the cooling, had risen to 40.8o Celsius. His level of consciousness had, after some brief moments of lucidity, also dipped further. It was no longer possible for Data to understand what Geordi was trying to say, his distress now expressed in murmured moans and occasional cries of pain.

Data had also been monitoring Geordi’s output of urine. Despite Data maintaining Geordi’s fluid intake, it had decreased to almost nothing over the past 24 hours. His kidneys were shutting down. Often the first sign of multi-organ failure, his low blood pressure was not sufficient to perfuse his tissues and he was moving from sepsis to septic shock. His condition was critical.

Once he had tended to Geordi as much as he was able, Data went back to the communications console and began to review the thousands of channels that the computer was monitoring. Any tiny fluctuation could be what they had been waiting for.

After an hour, Data had processed around one third of the morning’s results when an unusual modulation caught his eye in the narrow theta band. He focused all of his attention on this area and began to apply an aggressive mathematical formula. Prime numbers began to fall out of the data and their particular progression suggested two things; a frequency for him to home in on and that Wesley had found a way to communicate through the fog of radiation.

The moment Data keyed in the frequency modulations and their associated mathematical corrections, their receiver blared into life. He was met with a roar of static through which a message was only just audible. Data refined the equations and re-tuned.

“Say again,” Data requested.

There was a further flare of static and then a broken message came in.

 _“Enterprise_ to shuttlecraft _Tereshkova_ , do you read?”Interference warped and distorted the words but it was recognisably Captain Picard. 

“The signal is weak, however I copy.” Data’s fingers flew over the console, now he had their exact frequency he was able to apply further refinements.

“Received—” The signal wavered and faded and then came back in. The Captain’s voice rang out. “There is a shuttle on the way. Commander Riker, Dr Crusher and medical team.”

“Understood. Their ETA?”

“Forty minutes, Mr Data. Hold on, we’re coming.”

Data looked up sharply as a gasping, rattling sound interrupted his intended reply. 

It was Geordi. 

A protracted silence followed before there was another laboured, rasping breath. A long moment passed before he struggled to inhale again. As a pattern of breathing it was distinctly abnormal. Data accessed his medical algorithm.

// _Agonal respiration. Incompatible with life. Commence immediate CPR._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter which will follow this one will have extensive, detailed descriptions of Data's efforts to save Geordi.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are detailed descriptions of CPR as Data attempts to save Geordi's life.

“What was that?” Picard’s voice demanded over the comm.

Data was at Geordi’s side. He had pulled away the cooling garment and moved Geordi’s broken arm off his chest. Data laced the fingers of his right hand through those of his left and then placed the heel of that hand in the centre of Geordi’s sternum. He locked his elbows and began rapid chest compressions.

“Geordi is in cardiac arrest,” Data reported calmly as he repeatedly depressed Geordi’s chest to a depth of five centimetres.

“Patch this through to Dr Crusher,” Picard said immediately, bringing her into the conversation she would only have been monitoring at this point.

“Data,” she said, “what were his vitals before he arrested?”

As Data continued with CPR, he reported the details to Dr Crusher.

“Heart rate 134 beats per minute, respiration 38 breaths per minute, temperature 40.8o Celsius, blood pressure – undetermined, however there was no radial or femoral pulse for the last 18 hours 34 minutes. One moment, I must carry out recovery breaths.”

He tilted Geordi’s head back, opened his mouth and checked for obstructions. He pinched Geordi’s nose closed and then he sealed their lips together, exhaling a full breath of air into Geordi’s lungs. Data watched as Geordi’s chest rose and then fell. He gave a second breath and when Geordi’s chest fell back into stillness, Data resumed, rapidly completing the next thirty chest compressions.

“You’re doing great, Data, keep going,” Dr Crusher said. 

“I do not plan to stop until you arrive or Geordi begins to spontaneously respire.”

“Glad to hear it,” she replied, though Data could detect the tell-tale signs of stress in her voice. No doubt this was due to both the current situation and that which she had left behind on the _Enterprise._

“Data?” It was Commander Riker’s voice coming in. “We’re at the shuttle’s maximum warp. We’ll be there in less than 40 minutes.”

“Thank you, Commander. Dr Crusher?”

“Yes, Data?”

“I have completed the first three sets of breaths and chest compressions. There is no carotid pulse. There is no attempt to breathe. Commencing second round of CPR now, Doctor.”

Data continued with his efforts, reporting back to Dr Crusher and answering her questions on the mechanism of Geordi’s injuries, their severity, the nature of his illness and the timeline of his decline into unconsciousness and eventual cardiac arrest.

The minutes ticked by, second by second, measured out in chest compressions, recovery breaths and Data’s internal chronometer. Thirty-eight minutes and twelve seconds after Data had first made contact with the _Enterprise,_ he heard the distant roar of atmospheric thrusters cleaving the air. Commander Riker’s shuttle could only be a few minutes away.

“Data?” Riker’s voice pierced the silence. “We’re coming in hard and fast on bearing two five mark nine eight from your position.”

“Understood.”

Commander Riker would be landing downhill from their location, where the ground flattened out into a small plateau. As they made their controlled descent, the thrusters gunned on full power, slowing them from a speed of somewhere close to one thousand kph down to nothing in just a few seconds. Dirt and debris blew in through the open hatch of the _Tereshkova,_ a hot blast of humid air and exhaust backwash. Data leaned over Geordi, using his body to shield him until the debris subsided. He then resumed CPR.

Very shortly, Data heard the approach of the Away Team making their way through the dense forest of ferns, their voices growing clearer as they drew near.

Data gave a brief nod of acknowledgement as Commander Riker and Dr Crusher entered with her support staff, Dr Polly Llewellyn and Nurse Ravi Desai, who had between them manoeuvred an anti-grav stretcher through the undergrowth. It was packed with medical kits and equipment.

“Data,” said Dr Crusher. “Keep going with CPR for a moment or two.”

“Of course, Doctor,” he replied, maintaining that same rapid tempo of chest compressions.

Dr Crusher had knelt down next to Geordi and was now scanning him with her tricorder and peripheral.

“We’ll need the compression band and the neuro-callipers,” she said to Nurse Desai, the intensive care specialist. To Data she said, “You’ve done a phenomenal job, but you can step aside now, Commander.”

Data ceased CPR immediately and smoothly moved to stand next to Commander Riker. He then felt the Commander’s hand on his shoulder. Data glanced up at him and saw that Commander Riker’s other hand was covering his mouth. He then drew it down his face and Data heard it rasp over his beard.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes fixed on Geordi. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get here any sooner.”

“I understand, Commander,” Data said. 

Nurse Desai had placed the wide, polycarbonate compression band laterally over Geordi’s chest. It gripped around his ribs and pressed tight against his skin. Desai made some adjustments, then he tapped the control panel and the band began to contract severely, delivering the chest compressions Geordi required. The neuro-callipers were placed on his forehead and, with a touch from Desai’s fingertips, Geordi took in a stilted, artificial breath. Watching his body jerk with the force of the band’s contractions and take in these gasping, unnatural breaths was… disconcerting.

“Stand clear,” Beverly said.

Once that order had been complied with, she directed a shock command to the compression band via her tricorder. Geordi’s body jolted and then the artificial CPR resumed, the band delivering the heart massage, the callipers the breaths. As Dr Crusher continued to deliver a series of shocks to Geordi’s heart, Data resumed his conversation with Commander Riker.

“I surmised that the _Enterprise_ had sustained significant damage.”

“We had a catastrophic main power failure. No warp or impulse drive, we were on emergency power for over a week. We’re still days away from getting impulse power back, God knows how long for warp. The _Nguru_ is on her way but she’s still three days out. We threw everything we could at getting this one shuttle, our fastest shuttle, warp capable so we could come get you.”

“It is appreciated, Commander.”

“I just hope we got here in time,” Riker said, unable to take his eyes off Geordi.

“I ‘hope’ so too,” said Data, his gaze following his Commander’s to rest upon his stricken friend.

“Okay,” said Dr Crusher, “we have something resembling circulation, but it’s shaky. Polly, we need to get his blood pressure up.”

“I’d recommend an old-fashioned intravenous delivery of infused saline. It’s invasive, but fast.”

“Agreed.”

Dr Llewellyn had extensive battle field experience having served on the front line in some of the early skirmishes of the Cardassian conflict. Her expertise in trauma medicine were second to none.

Data watched intently as Dr Crusher and her team worked on Geordi. Now they had an established heartbeat and blood pressure support, the two doctors began to assess Geordi’s injuries, his broken bones and burns, whilst Nurse Desai monitored Geordi’s vital signs and administered a series of hyposprays, aimed variously at maintaining his circulation and combatting the aggressive infection that had taken hold.

Dr Llewellyn was shaking her head. “I’ve never seen un-mended bones after this length of time, but I don’t think this is normal. There should be far more osteocyte activity than I’m seeing here.”

“You’re right, there is very little activity,” Dr Crusher agreed. “The infection has caused massive inflammation in Geordi’s tissues. The associated cytokine release can interrupt the—”

Nurse Desai cut them off.

“He’s in v-tach,” he reported, immediately restarting the compression band and callipers.

“Fifty milligrams metrazine,” said Dr Crusher.

“Fifty milligrams metrazine, aye,” he replied and fired the hypospray. “No response. No output.”

“Shocking,” said Crusher. “Stand clear.”

Nurse Desai moved back and Dr Crusher delivered the shock. The cycle was repeated four further times before they had Geordi’s heartbeat back.

“I have an output,” said Desai, “but it’s thready.”

“Eighty milligrams prolexinide,” Dr Crusher ordered.

“Eighty milligrams prolexinide, aye,” he confirmed and administered the drug. “He’s stabilising, I’ve got a good rhythm.”

“We should go,” said Dr Crusher. “Polly, lets get him packaged and get him back on the _Enterprise._ ”

“I concur,” said Llewellyn. “He's got no injuries that will stop us moving him and we can work on him in our shuttle as well as we can in this one.”

“May I assist you?” Data asked once they were ready to lift Geordi onto the stretcher.

Commander Riker also stepped forward and between the five of them, they supported and then gently lifted Geordi on the count of three. They moved him off the floor and onto the stretcher where Desai secured him with the safety straps.

Then Commander Riker went ahead, re-enforcing the path through the undergrowth they had made on their arrival, as Data helped to pack up the equipment and carry what could no longer fit on the stretcher.

The four of them, the three medical staff and Data, then placed themselves around the stretcher as it was activated. The blue glow of its anti-grav coils spilled out over the floor as it elevated off the ground.

They were then able to guide the stretcher between them over the rough, uneven terrain as they made the short journey to the shuttlecraft _Hodgkin_. Commander Riker was already carrying out his pre-flight checks.

Once Data had assisted Dr Crusher and her team with settling Geordi and arranging their equipment, he took the seat next to Commander Riker at the conn.

Riker turned to him and said, “Let’s get the two of you off this rock and back to the _Enterprise._ Such as she is.”

“In whatever condition, it will be… a relief to be back aboard.”

“And it’s a relief to have you back, Mr Data. To have both of you back.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Then Data attended to his duties as co-pilot as Commander Riker brought the engines up. The shuttlecraft left the surface and Data took a moment to observe the ocean of ferns billowing in the down-draft from their thrusters. As they gained altitude, he watched as the ground below and the shuttle _Tereshkova_ shrank and then faded into a blur of green. Commander Riker then performed the Galette Manoeuvre and the view screen appeared to pirouette. It was now filled with blue sky that rapidly turned to star-strewn black. Within moments, the planetoid that had been his and Geordi’s place of salvation and incarceration for twelve days, nine hours and seventeen minutes was left far behind.

They sped towards the _Enterprise_ , towards safety and towards home.


	11. Chapter 11

As the elegant shape of the _Enterprise_ emerged from the background of stars, Data noted that the both the field grids of the nacelles and the hydrogen collectors were dark. The absence of their vibrant blue and red glow leant the _Enterprise_ a desolate aspect. There was, at least now, the usual compliment of lighting at her many windows, something which Commander Riker had informed him had only been the case ‘for the last thirty six hours or so’. Despite the damage that was evident and the considerable repairs that were required, it was a most welcome sight and it was one that Data would remark upon at length in his personal log later that day.

They commenced docking procedures as Dr Crusher and her team continued to work on Geordi. It would have been ideal for him to be transported directly to Sickbay as the biofilters would have automatically attempted to remove the infection. Unfortunately, Chief O’Brien was still working to bring the system online following the severe power failure. He felt that they were several hours away from testing.

Commander Riker coasted into the shuttle bay and gently brought the _Hodgkin_ into land. A transfer team was waiting and Drs Crusher and Llewellyn began to brief them, whilst Nurse Desai continued his close monitoring of Geordi’s condition. 

“May I accompany you?” Data asked as the expanded team moved to take Geordi from the shuttle bay.

Dr Crusher turned to him, compassion evident on her face and in her voice. “Data, we’re going to need some time. I’ll let you know as soon as you’re able to see him.”

“I understand, Doctor,” Data said.

They spirited Geordi away, leaving Data standing by the side of the shuttle, at something of a loss.

“I know you don’t want to leave him,” said Commander Riker, emerging from the _Hodgkin_. “Especially after everything the two of you have been through, but he’s in the best hands and they’re going to be working on him pretty intensely. If you’re feeling up to it, we could really use your input in Engineering.”

“Of course. Should I go there directly, or report initially to the Bridge?”

“Now you’re back aboard, those engines are our number one priority. I’ll fill the Captain in until you’re able to give him your full report.”

“Thank you, Commander,” said Data. He exited the shuttle bay and took the nearest turbolift down to Deck 36.

*~*~*~*

It was almost 3am when Data was able to finally visit with Geordi, nine hours and six minutes after their rescue had been completed.

He had spent most of that time in Engineering, assisting Geordi’s staff with their monumental task of having to rebuild both the warp and impulse drives. The damage was immense and they had worked tirelessly to now have main power and stable life-support across all decks. That they had accomplished this without their Chief Engineer was a testament to their skill and professionalism.

His and Geordi’s plight had, he had been informed by several of Geordi’s staff, lent an even more urgent edge to their endeavours. Although the _Enterprise_ knew where they had planned to land, until their forced pulse radio message was received near the end of that fifth day, no one knew if they had made it down alive. The receipt of that message had apparently given the whole ship a much needed morale boost and had sharpened their resolve still further.

Subsequent news of their successful rescue had been tempered by the seriousness of Geordi’s illness and injury, and Data had fielded many questions and concerns from the Engineering staff about his current condition. He assured them that as soon as any information was available, it would be communicated to them as appropriate.

Captain Picard was clearly as exhausted as the rest of the crew, yet he had remained in his Ready Room awaiting Data’s report ‘whenever he felt able’ to leave Engineering, which was not until 0200 hours. His Captain asked few questions, commenting only on occasion as to their ‘remarkable’ ingenuity and tenacity. When Dr Crusher had asked for Data’s presence in Sickbay, Captain Picard had immediately granted him permission to leave the bridge.

Data entered the medical unit and he was unsettled to see that Geordi was still the centre of much activity. He was unconscious, his limbs were still splinted and there were two devices clipped to his chest and one of a different design attached to his left temple. There was a machine at the side of the bed, monitoring his vital signs, poised to intervene should it be required.

Data did not know what he had expected, but it had not been this. He halted several metres away from Geordi, not wanting to become an obstacle to the medical staff.

When Dr Crusher saw him hovering, she smiled warmly and waved him closer, joining him to stand at Geordi’s bedside.

“He’s going to be okay,” she said.

Her words initiated a torrent of activity in Data’s positronic net. A blur of poly-synaptic functions integrated this information into his subroutines and algorithms, and the increased power requirement warmed his sub-processors 3.4o Celsius. His lips twitched upwards and his eyes widened.

“Thank you, Doctor. That is excellent news.”

“He’s given us a few scares,” Dr Crusher continued. “The infection has caused a lot of damage and along with the radiation that he was only partially protected from, we’re having to take it slowly.”

“I understand, yet I find I was not prepared for him appear quite so vulnerable.”

The similarity of Geordi’s condition now to that which he had endured on the planetoid was inescapable.

“He’s very weak and he can’t take all the procedures he needs right now, so we’ve prioritised his vital signs, brain activity and the repairs to his internal organs.”

Data did not reply and his silence seemed to prompt Dr Crusher to speak further.

“It may seem worse than it is,” she said, seeking to reassure him, “but that’s because he’s sedated. He was briefly conscious earlier.”

Data looked up keenly into her eyes. “Did he say anything, Doctor?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean he won’t.”

Data returned his gaze to his friend. There was a deep, dark bruise in the centre of Geordi’s chest, where he had performed CPR. Data could now see that the two devices clipped to his sternum were osteogenic initiators.

“Did I injure him?” Data asked, unable to take his eyes from the damage he had potentially inflicted.

“Yes,” said Dr Crusher. “But he wouldn’t still be here if you hadn’t.”

Data knew that this was the case, yet the knowledge that he had hurt Geordi was causing a feedback loop in his moral processors. It was a troubling sensation, but for some reason he was disinclined to intervene and shut it down.

“You can stay for a little while, if you’d like,” Dr Crusher said.

“I would, Doctor. May I hold his hand?”

“Of course and it will help to talk to him.”

“Thank you for saving his life,” said Data.

Dr Crusher looked at him intently. “I could say the same thing to you,” she said softly.

Her hand briefly rested on Data’s arm before she left him alone with Geordi, who lay unresponsive on the bed. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and regular. Data observed that the burns to the palm of Geordi’s right hand had been patched with a dermal regeneration bandage. As he gently took Geordi’s hand in his, he was careful not to disturb the silvery dressing.

“It is Data,” he said, lowering his voice and inclining his head towards the patient. “I am gratified to know that you will be all right. I have been concerned as to your well-being and I find that knowing ‘you will be okay’ has reduced the activity in my post-dorsal matrix whilst increasing it markedly in the pre-frontal cortex. This is a pattern I have been highly motivated to replicate in this instance, as it appears on occasions where danger and threat-to-life are resolved satisfactorily.”

Nothing happened for a moment and then the machine monitoring Geordi sounded a series of monotone aural alerts. Data glanced at the readouts and each trace was showing a small increase in his life-signs. There was an uptick in heart rate, breathing and brain activity.

Data made to step away as medical staff were drawn to Geordi’s bedside, but when Dr Crusher came from her office and she indicated it was appropriate for him to stay.

“It’s all right, Data. This is a good sign, don’t worry.”

“It is all right for me to remain?”

“Yes, stay, please. It shows that he knows that you’re here. That can only be a good thing.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I will remain until I am required elsewhere.”

Dr Crusher arranged for a seat to be brought to Geordi’s bedside. Though he did not require it, Data found that he appreciated the gesture, as it was one usually reserved for a family member or a close intimate.

Data held Geordi’s hand and spoke to him softly until his presence was requested in Engineering some two hours, three minutes and nine seconds later.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few problems posting this chapter, but I got there in the end.

Dr Crusher was approaching Geordi’s bed. He had been hoping for good news, but those hopes evaporated as the expression on her face became clearer as she got closer. Her smile was pinched and apologetic.

Geordi groaned and glanced at Data, who was sat next to him as he had been whenever he was off duty. His presence for those precious few hours each day had been the one thing keeping Geordi sane.

Both his arm and leg remained in traction. His left arm was held up, corralled in a silver-blue force field that emanated from the ceiling above him. His leg was similarly braced, held fast in a unit that hung off the end of his bed. Utterly immobile, he had been crawling walls he wasn’t able to even reach. Both hands were still stubbornly refusing to heal fully and they remained swaddled in regeneration dressings. He wasn’t in any pain, he was just extremely uncomfortable, not being able to move hardly at all. The various drugs he was on had been messing with his VISOR, so he was also experiencing some pretty strange visuals and intermittent cut-outs. All in all, he’d had about as much of this as he could take, but from the looks of things, it wasn’t going to get better any time soon.

Why this bothered him so much, so much more than the basically identical situation on the planetoid was something he’d thought long and hard about. A couple of things had occurred to him. One, they’d had their capacitor to build, he’d had something to focus on and their goal of getting off that rock had been all consuming. Now he was back aboard the _Enterprise_ his goal of getting out of Sickbay and back into Engineering was totally out of his hands. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t fix himself, all he could do was lie there and annoy the nurses with his constant questions. They had all been wonderful to him, but if he was getting on his own last nerve, he was pretty sure he was getting on theirs too. 

The second difference? Down on that planet, Data had scarcely left his side. His friend was now pulling double shifts and then some, covering for him in Engineering whilst also trying to manage the damage and the disruption to the rest of the ship – all the department heads report to the Operations Manager and Data was co-ordinating all of their massively increased requirements, given that every ship’s system and therefore every department had been severely affected by the supernova. It meant Geordi had hardly seen Data, and then for little more than a scant few hours each day. He’d found himself getting ridiculously emotional when Data had to leave. His friend would bid him goodbye and leave, and Geordi would lay there, the tears in his eyes hidden by his VISOR, while he fought incredibly hard to _get a damn grip_ before anyone noticed there was something wrong or, even worse, tried to talk to him. 

As Dr Crusher arrived at his bedside, her tense little smile was now faltering.

“Hey, Doc,” Geordi said, the words feeling tight in his throat. “Bad news, huh?”

“I’m afraid so. The latest test results show very little bone growth and what there has been is not great quality. I’m going to have to take you off the caldexalone. The treatment is doing more harm than good.”

Geordi let out an exasperated sigh, disappointment and frustration ripping through the heart of him. The urge to punch one of those walls that he’d metaphorically been climbing was immense.

“Do not despair, Geordi,” Data said. “Dr Crusher will find a solution.”

“I’m certainly not giving up yet,” she said firmly. “The combination of the novel bacterial infection and the radiation has damaged the link between your osteocytes and your immune system in a way that hasn’t been seen before.” 

Dr Crusher had explained there was some very intricate communication back and forth between the osteocytes which controlled bone growth and the immune system as a whole. That delicate balance had been seriously affected by the infection and the radiation. This was the fifth treatment to have failed and Geordi wondered bleakly if there was ever going to be a solution.

Beverly continued. “All of our treatments essentially accelerate the body’s own defences. With yours badly affected, our treatments are having little to no effect. The drugs are supporting your kidneys and your liver, so at least those tests are stable. But even if we could double your current healing rate, we’d still be struggling to see any measureable level of recovery.”

“100% of nothing is nothing, right?” Geordi said, his mood spiralling lower.

“That’s about the strength of it. But as Data says, we’re not done yet. It’s just going to take a little more time.”

Geordi sank deeper into the pillows and his misery. The euphoria he’d felt when he’d first woken up, realised he was on board the _Enterprise_ and was _safe_ had slowly faded as days and days had passed with no discernible progress. He felt as guilty as hell too, lying on his back doing nothing while his people ran themselves ragged trying to fix the damaged engines. 

“I’m going to do some more research,” said Dr Crusher. She put her hand on Geordi’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Hang in there.”

Geordi looked up at his arm, dangling as it was from the ceiling.

“Very funny,” he said, managing a half-smile to show her that, despite his mordant tone, he was joking.

Beverly smiled softly at him. “You know what I mean. We’ll get there, I promise you.”

He nodded and then said, “Sorry. I guess I’m just an impatient patient.”

She patted him on the shoulder. “You’re not my first. You won’t be my last.”

Then Dr Crusher headed across Sickbay and disappeared into her office.

“Talk to me Data, please.” Geordi desperately needed a distraction from the disheartening news he’d been given.

“You will be pleased to hear your Engineering staff continue to deliver exemplary service under these trying circumstances. Whilst there is huge damage to the engines which still require extensive repairs, that there was no loss of life during the power failure is remarkable. The maintenance of the life and environmental systems was accomplished with great skill and determination. You should be very proud of them.”

“I am, they did an amazing job. Have they managed to realign the antimatter injectors?”

“Not as yet. There have been issues with the magnetic constrictors going offline at apparently random intervals. We have yet to find the cause.”

Before Geordi could reply with options, Beverly’s voice rang out from way over in her office.

“No talking shop!” she shouted.

Geordi shook his head, in disbelief that she had been able to hear the topic of their conversation from where she was.

“She must have ears like a bat,” he grumbled to himself.

“Perhaps that is why she wears her hair long,” said Data.

Geordi gawked at his friend. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes, Geordi. I was attempting to lift your mood with a witticism. Did it work?”

Despite himself, Geordi felt a smile creep onto his face. “That was actually pretty good.”

The more he thought about it, about Data’s perfect timing, his deadpan delivery and all, the funnier he found it and he started to laugh.

“I’m sorry I’ve been moaning so much,” Geordi said, the laughter having made him feel lighter than he had done in days. “I should be happy and grateful to still be here. And I am, I really am. I’m sorry, Data.” He stared up at the ceiling for what felt like the billionth time. “My head is a mess.”

He was bored and frustrated and he _hated_ feeling so useless, and these endless, empty hours meant there were all kinds of thoughts careening around Geordi’s head. They would gallop off in directions that he found he had little control over. He blamed it on the medication, the way his emotions were charging about all over the place, but he knew he was trying to sell himself a line.

“Perhaps it would help if you spoke to Counselor Troi.”

“What helps is having you here.” Geordi held out his hand and Data took it carefully, so as not to dislodge the dressing.

“That is gratifying to hear, however, you have been putting off speaking with the Counselor.”

 _You’re damn right I have,_ was what stormed across Geordi’s mind.

What he actually said was, “I don’t want to discuss this kind of stuff in the middle of Sickbay.”

This was almost entirely, completely true. Almost.

Data was peering at him with a look of… Disbelief? Disapproval?

“Seriously, Data,” Geordi said, trying to convince perhaps not only Data. “It’s going to be hard enough to talk about, without people milling around while I do it.”

“I am sure that Dr Crusher would be willing and able to offer you and Counselor Troi the privacy such an encounter would require.”

“Don’t get on my case about this, okay?” Geordi pleaded. “I can’t right now. I just… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He curled his fingers deeper into Data’s hand, despite the twinge of pain that it caused. Data was staring at him intently and he was so earnest and open. It was causing an ache deep in Geordi’s chest which rivalled the one from his hardly-healing ribs.

“I am the one who should apologise,” said Data. “I did not mean to cause you distress by bringing up this topic.”

“You didn’t, honestly, you didn’t. I was a mess already anyways.”

He smiled at Data and then Data smiled back.

A sweet, delicate, beautiful smile on Data’s sweet, delicate, beautiful face. Geordi felt a wave of emotion so intense he wanted to laugh and cry and shout something stupid, all at the same time.

 _You’re in a heap of trouble, La Forge_ , thought Geordi desperately to himself. _A **whole** heap of trouble._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we reach the final chapter. As they both try to come to terms with how close Geordi came to losing his life, there are some unflinching discussions surrounding that topic.

“What have I told you?!” Beverly snapped.

“I am sorry,” Data said.

“It’s my fault,” said Geordi. “I asked him to bring them.”

“Rest means rest, Lieutenant Commanders.”

Beverly had confiscated the PADDs that Data had been sneaking into Geordi. He had been in Sickbay for more than two weeks and he was going out of his mind with boredom. His arm and leg were still in traction, the bone regrowth was tediously slow but at least it _was_ now growing. Given the state of the ship and the insanity that Engineering had been working under, he desperately wanted to get a jump on things before he was officially back on duty. Whenever that might be. If he could do even a small amount to help them and the _Nguru_ crew, he was damn well going to try.

Charmingly, to facilitate their subterfuge, Data had replicated some hollowed-out books and hidden the PADDs inside them. His surreptitious reveal of them within Sickbay had been a joyous thing to behold, his friend dropping him the most unsubtle wink Geordi had ever seen. It was delightful and it had sent Geordi’s spirits soaring. Their ‘crime’ had only been discovered when one of the nurses knocked the pile of books off the bedside table several days later.

Beverly, intent on drilling her orders home to them, wasn’t letting them off the hook. “What does rest mean?”

“ _Rest_ ,” Geordi and Data chimed in unison.

“Yes! It does not mean reviewing the _Nguru’s_ Engineering team rotations.” She slapped down the first PADD on the empty bed next to Geordi. “It does not mean analysing the diagnostics on the drive coils.” She slapped down the second. “And it certainly doesn’t mean writing a proposal for the recalibration of the Walker Manifold - whatever the hell that is!” 

“They are,” Data corrected. “The Walker Manifold are plural due a perpetuated linguistic anomaly.”

Dr Crusher fixed him with a stare that would have flash-frozen an entire tank of warp plasma, then the third PADD emphatically joined its fellows. 

“I’m really, really sorry,” said a chastened Geordi. He felt like a five year old who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“If you do this again, I will put you on report. Both of you. I’m not joking.”

“No, Doctor,” agreed Data.

“Aye, sir,” said Geordi.

Beverly scooped up the PADDs and headed directly to her office.

“Wow,” Geordi mouthed silently to Data.

Data raised his eyebrows in agreement.

“I haven’t seen her that angry in ages,” Geordi said keeping his voice low. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

“I should not have allowed you to persuade me to break the rules. Although this has been an intriguing experience.”

Geordi smiled. “I guess you never were one for cutting classes or cribbing homework. How does it feel, getting caught and hauled up in front of the Principal?”

Data’s head twitched to one side. “Ah! A high school metaphor. I do not know how it feels, however I did find the exchange stimulating and Dr Crusher’s admonishment an effective deterrent against committing further infractions.”

“So did I, Data,” Geordi nodded ruefully. “So did I.”

The conversation ebbed and there was a comfortable silence for a while.

“You don’t have to stay, I know you’ve got a tonne of other stuff to do. I’ll be fine,” said Geordi, not entirely meaning what he said.

Data hesitated, seemingly unsure as to whether he should comply.

“What’s wrong?” Geordi asked at Data’s uncharacteristic wavering, as something in his manner had subtly shifted.

His friend did not answer straight away, but when he did it was with something unexpected.

“Geordi, on several consecutive nights, I have experienced… an unsettling phenomenon.”

“What do you mean?”

“As I had been running continuously for over twelve days in a radioactive environment, I have recently taken the opportunity, now that the _Enterprise_ is somewhat restored, to shutdown my primary functions. For an hour each night I have been running routine yet essential maintenance operations which I had been unable to perform whilst on the planetoid. Whilst in this mode, without any conscious instigation on my part, I have experienced certain events as if they are occurring in the moment, which then play out repeatedly, night after night.”

“Data, that’s amazing,” Geordi murmured, gazing at his friend. “It sounds like you’ve been having a recurring dream.”

A look of gentle surprise and fleeting hope alighted on Data’s face.

“Do you think so, Geordi? Due to the repetitive nature of the occurrence, I had theorised that it was a corrupted algorithm or a subtly damaged subroutine, due to prolonged radiation exposure.”

“What did your diagnostics show?”

“I have found no malfunction. However, when you are well, I would appreciate you running a level one series on my subsystems.”

Geordi nodded his agreement. “Do you want to tell me about it? About your dream?”

Data opened his mouth and then closed it, a tick of his head telling Geordi he was still conflicted. “I do not wish to distress you with its content.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“It begins with your cardiac arrest on the floor of the shuttle.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t been expecting _that_. “Okay.”

“Are you comfortable with my continuing?”

“Sure. I mean, you had it worse than I did. I don’t remember a thing about what happened.”

“Please feel free to interject, should you wish me to stop. As stated, the ‘dream’ begins with your cardiac arrest on the floor of the shuttle. The message has just come in from Commander Riker that the shuttle from the _Enterprise_ is estimated to arrive forty minutes hence. I commence chest compressions and recovery breaths for that period of time. However, the ‘dream’ then deviates from actual events.”

Data was quiet for a short time, something moving, something shifting behind his eyes before he was able to continue.

“The time for the shuttle’s arrival passes. I continue CPR, anticipating their arrival will be imminent. It is not. I continue CPR for a further sixty minutes. The shuttle does not arrive. I do not know when or if they are coming. There are no further communications. I do not know at what point I should stop life support. I do not want to stop life support. I do not want you to die. As I am able to continue indefinitely, I do so, in the knowledge that should I cease, it would mean your death. As I begin yet another cycle of chest compressions and recovery breaths, the ‘dream’ ends, on… an unresolved note.” 

Data’s face was pained as he brought his account to a close.

“God, Data. That sounds horrible.”

“I am sorry if this has distressed you.”

“I’m fine, honestly. But it sounds like you’re having some difficulty processing what happened.”

“It is true I have never held anyone’s life quite so completely in my hands. There have been occasions where the lives of the entire crew have depended on me, or those of an Away Team. This was different. You were very sick and there was little I could do. I find my thoughts return often to those last days, to those last minutes and I find that I wonder... what if I had been unsuccessful? What if the shuttle had not come?”

“You weren’t unsuccessful and the shuttle did come. You know that. And you know that I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“Your survival was not inevitable. It was, in fact, increasingly unlikely. Should it have been required, I had selected a site.”

Geordi’s mouth fell open. Despite knowing how sick he had been, despite knowing, therefore, that Data would have planned for every eventuality, including his death, it was still quite the thing to hear it articulated.

“Where?” Geordi managed to ask.

“On the rise of the hill behind our shuttle, there is a ridge which catches the first rays of the sun. As you have often expressed your pleasure when viewing a sunrise, I felt that would have been an appropriate place.”

In those dark, fevered days, during bleak moments of lucidity, Geordi had thought that this distant, lonely rock was going to be his resting place. And that Data would have to dig his grave.

That his friend had chosen somewhere with such consideration and care was breaking down Geordi’s resolve. There were tears brimming in his eyes, once again hidden only by his VISOR, but they were in danger of spilling from his lashes as he desperately tried to blink them back.

“Data, I—” Geordi cleared his throat, his words catching on the aching knot of emotion that was trapped there. 

“Yes, Geordi?”

It was going to be now. It was going to have to be now. Geordi had never felt so certain or so afraid of anything in his life. 

“Okay, uh… I’m not exactly comfortable saying this—” he began.

“Then let me assist you.”

Data stood, having _mis_ understood, and Geordi felt his friend’s arm slide under his body and then Data was lifting him, helping him to sit up. Geordi hooked his not so badly damaged arm around Data’s neck. As he did so, the scent of warm electrical circuits filled his senses as it had done so many times down on the planet. The scent merged with the vision of Data’s glow and Geordi’s mind swirled helplessly. Data, having rearranged and plumped up his pillows, was now easing him gently back down.

Even after all these years, Data’s innocence and guilelessness could still hit Geordi like a phaser blast. He could feel his throat closing and tears refilling his eyes, because something in the misread sweetness of Data’s gesture had cracked him wide open.

“Have I hurt you, Geordi?”

He shook his head as the tears fell, not trusting himself to speak.

Data’s confusion was visible in the minutiae of his facial ticks, in the way the slant of his brow shifted, in the slight downturn of his lips, in the small tilt of his head. “What is wrong?”

“I’m, uh, still a little messed up, I guess.”

“That is understandable. The experience was a traumatic one.”

“You saved my life.”

“I believe we are ‘quits’ in that respect. You have repaired me when I have been severely damaged on many occasions, when I otherwise would have ceased to function.”

“I said some things… I think I did.”

“You said many things when you were ‘high’ on lapthamine. It is a known side effect, 23.7% of humans experience confusion and/or confabulation whilst under its influence. You said nothing you should be concerned about.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Are you referring to the hallucinations you experienced whilst feverish?”

“No, I…” Geordi took a deep breath. “When I realised I was getting sick, I knew there was a good chance that I wasn’t going to make it. I had a lot of time to think and you know, I kind of made peace with it. I thought about my mom and dad, my sister, my career and… I didn’t have any regrets, looking back, I didn’t. But there was one thing—”

Geordi had to break off, emotion overcoming him once again. Data, ever solicitous, now had a tissue ready, and he wiped away his tears. Geordi closed his eyes behind his VISOR, still able to see the subtle concern etched on Data’s beautiful face.

“There’s someone who means more to me than I can ever say.” Geordi paused and then smiled. “The room… lights up when they walk in. I’m a better person for them being in my life. And… I never told them, I never let them know.”

“Then perhaps you should tell them now,” said Data, wholly oblivious.

Geordi’s breath hitched and he laughed through his tears and said, “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

There was a flare of activity in Data’s aura, a power-demand spike indicative of higher level processing.

“I’m in love with you, Data. I have been for a long time.”

There was silence. It spun out and Geordi felt a torrent of emotion. Love and hope and fear and regret were all seething inside. It felt as though he’d thrown himself off a cliff and he was falling, falling, falling.

Data tilted his head, he pursed his lips and the halo around him glowed brighter. “I cannot love you, Geordi.”

“I know.” And Geordi smiled at his friend, even though he thought his heart might break. “I know and it’s okay.”

*~*~*~* The End *~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this, left kudos or given a comment or two. I've had quite the most wonderful response and it has been truly heartwarming.
> 
> _Thank you_


End file.
